


Little Queen Bee

by Angelwithbrokenwings, justlikedaylightsavingstime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hunters, Hunting, M/M, Minor Violence, More tags to come later, TFW find a baby, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witches, and have to look after it, because reasons, lots of bee references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwithbrokenwings/pseuds/Angelwithbrokenwings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life doesn't always go to plan. Particularly when you find yourself with an armful of baby. How the Hell are Dean, Cas and Sam gonna to figure this one out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Queen Bee

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is mostly the set up, the fluffy stuff will happen more in the next chapter. This chapter is mainly my (justlikedaylightsavingstime) work, but we've got the whole teamwork vibe going on for the next one so that should be way better.
> 
> We both like to pretend we have lives, so updating will be sporadic at best, but if you subscribe to the story then you'll get an e-mail whenever we do manage to update.
> 
> Hope everyone's excited for the season premier tonight!

There was something about hunting witches that always left Dean grumbling about being too old for this shit. Maybe it was the extensive researching it involved (I mean really, who had time to bother reading through dusty tomes full of old Latin and Enochian spells?) or maybe it was the sheer amount of gymnastics required to dodge all those rogue spells. Dean’s knees just weren’t up to the task anymore, and he was still far too pretty to be turned into a frog.

Yet he found himself here, ducking and diving as he was assaulted by a never ending barrage of spells. Bloody witches. They’d managed to hem him in behind the couch, giving themselves the space they needed to get on with whatever damned ritual they were doing (he never really listened when Sam had been wittering on, particularly when he already knew how to gank what they were facing). And unfortunately they weren’t giving him much of an opportunity to fight back. Don’t get him wrong, he could totally handle one witch, or even two. I mean, he is the one and only Dean Winchester after all. But an entire coven was just a little bit above his paygrade. There must have been at least seven of them in there (about five more than they were expecting). And of course Sam was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Which meant that Dean was left with his ever constant Plan B.

“Cas, you son of a bitch. Get your feathery ass down here!” As another flash of light burst past his ear, Dean growled in frustration. “Now!”

When no immediate reply came, Dean realized that this was one he was gonna have to figure out on his own. Spotting a mirror just within arm’s reach, he grabbed hold of it and jumped out from behind the couch. Immediately a hail of spells flashed towards him, just leaving enough time for him to angle the mirror. The brightness of the spells bounced off the mirror, combining into one ball of energy which shot straight for the closest witch. The unfortunate woman didn’t have time to blink before she’d exploded into a cloud of ashes.

Not wasting any time, Dean tossed the mirror to the side and raised his gun. The gunshot rang as loud and the bullet flew as true as it always did, leaving two of the witches bleeding out to the side. Three down, four left. Another spell whistled past his ear as he barrelled into the closest witch. He got the guy down to the floor, barely even registering the struggle as he slammed his head down hard enough to hear a crack. The remaining three were all female. One of them was completely focused on the makeshift shrine with god knows what on it, her voice rising up and down with some creepy chant as she raised a shining blade into the air.

Whilst Dean had been rolling round on the floor the other two witches had crept closer, fire in their eyes and crackling sparks dancing on their fingertips. He was still trying to catch his footing when the two of them simultaneously blasted out their magic towards him. Except that just at that minute, Dean’s boot caught the guy he’d thrown to the floor, sending him sprawling onto the blood soaked carpet. He could barely keep a grin from his face as he watched the witches magic trap each other. The one to his left didn’t even have chance to yell before her entire body started to stiffen, turning into what looked like some twisted stone statue. The other witch managed to let out a bloodcurdling scream as she shrunk and shrunk, her skin turning a rather sickly shade of green. That green quickly became darker, her skin scaling up even as she shrunk, until it became pretty clear what the spell had done. “Ribbit!”

A frog. How cliché. Still, it was nice to know Dean still had it. Easy as pie! And so what if he would omit the part where he tripped when he recounted the story? He’d still managed to take six witches out of commission. Which only left number seven. She seemed more shaken than her comrades, the words of her chant stilling in her mouth as she heard the scream of the witch-turned-frog. There was nothing quite like watching the death (or transformation) of your coven to put the wrath of hunters into you. She was up and running before Dean managed to raise his gun, the momentum pushing her forward even as the bullet ripped through her skull.

Finally dropping his gun, Dean rested back on his heels, rubbing a hand across his sweaty forehead. Even over the ragged quality of his breathing Dean could still recognise the familiar rustle of wings.

“Nice of you to join the party!” He turned round to greet Cas, not sure whether to kiss him or cuff him round the back of the head (in all honesty there’d probably be a little of both). Except that the angel wasn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention. Instead he was wearing that good old fashioned confused expression that Dean had come to love (and mock). He had a bundle held out in an awkward position at arm’s length, holding it so gingerly it looked like he was going to drop it. Deciding not to be affronted that his boyfriend was pretty much ignoring him, Dean stood up, taking a position by Cas’ shoulder where he could peer at the bundle. The squirming, wriggling bundle. The squirming, wriggling bundle with a bright red face popping out of it. The one that looked an awful lot like a baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos, comments and bookmarks make a writer's world go round, and we'd love to hear what you think (whether good or bad). You can find me at [justlikedaylightsavingstime](http://justlikedaylightsavingstime.tumblr.com/).


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